The end of a 45-year-long renovation

Bought for $12,000 in 1967, the 145-acre St. Étienne de Bolton property has expanded in all directions - up, down and sideways. Its neglected 19th-century farmhouse has been created into a rambling family home with so many rooms that owner Patriquin "isn't quite sure" of the exact number.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

The music room houses Donald Patriquin's grand piano and work area where he transcribes his compositions.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

View of the living area with the music room beyond. The two are separated by pocket doors.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

Bought for $12,000 in 1967, the 145-acre St. Étienne de Bolton property has expanded in all directions - up, down and sideways. Its neglected 19th-century farmhouse has been created into a rambling family home with so many rooms that owner Patriquin "isn't quite sure" of the exact number.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

View of the living area with the music room beyond. The two are separated by pocket doors.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

Bought for $12,000 in 1967, the 145-acre St. Étienne de Bolton property has expanded in all directions - up, down and sideways. Its neglected 19th-century farmhouse has been created into a rambling family home with so many rooms that owner Patriquin "isn't quite sure" of the exact number.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

Bought for $12,000 in 1967, the 145-acre St. Étienne de Bolton property has expanded in all directions - up, down and sideways. Its neglected 19th-century farmhouse has been created into a rambling family home with so many rooms that owner Patriquin "isn't quite sure" of the exact number.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

The music room has a cathedral ceiling, twin patio doors and a wood stove.Helga Loverseed
/ The Gazette

A scrapbook compiled by teenager Karin Patriquin opens with the words "The house had weathered around 130 Quebec winters. Judging by its New England architecture and white wooden shingles, the builder might have come from the British Isles. The foundation was made of rocks brought in from the fields."

Young Karin was documenting the life of a small, one-storey farmhouse that her parents, Donald and Heidi Patriquin, had bought in St. Étienne de Bolton, back in 1967. That was Expo year and because so many Montrealers were focusing on the World Fair rather than taking trips out into the country, the real estate market was in a downturn. In the Eastern Townships, there were bargains to be had.

"The asking price was $18,000 for 145 acres of land, two barns, a milk house, an apple orchard and a shed housing a wagon and plow," recalled Donald Patriquin. "I didn't have much money so I offered the seller $12,000 and he took it!"

Today, the property is worth many times its original price, but in size and appearance it is very different from the original. What was a neglected 19th-century farmhouse has evolved into a rambling family home with so many rooms that Patriquin says, tongue in cheek, he "isn't quite sure" of the exact number.

Over the years, Patriquin, a composer and former music professor at McGill University, "who knows his way around wood" has slowly renovated and enlarged the building. Whipping it into shape has been a lifelong passion and although he has done much of the work himself, he was helped along the way by family, friends and his second wife, Louise Racette, a psychotherapist.

"In the beginning, the site was pretty bleak," said Patriquin. "The fields hadn't been plowed for years, so one of the first things I did was plant 3,000 pine trees. That was in 1973. A couple of years later I added another 4,000."

The landscape is now heavily wooded but close to the house, Patriquin has retained open patches of garden for growing vegetables and flowers. (The apple trees remain and they still bear fruit.) In the middle of the garden is a large, partly walled gazebo. Powered by a solar unit, it has running water and counter space for preparing meals.

Both Patriquin and Racette have been married before, and between them the couple has 10 grandchildren, with another on the way. According to Racette, one of the reasons they built the gazebo ("really a summer kitchen") was so that the adults could keep an eye on the kids while they ran around in the fresh air.

The house itself, which is furnished with antiques, has expanded in all directions - up, down and sideways, climbing to four levels. On the ground floor is a kitchen, bathroom and an open-plan dining and living area, which extends into a music room. A couple steps down from the dining area is a sun room which, in turn, leads to a basement workshop and a small bedroom. Above this section of the house is Racette's office and consultancy room.

A steep, narrow stairway leads from the dining area to a landing, off which are a couple bedrooms, one with an ensuite bathroom. On the top storey is a studio with a large window and a parquet floor, where Racette likes to paint. (There is original artwork throughout the house, some by Racette, others by noted Québécois painters.)

Renovating the farmhouse presented many challenges - from discovering termites behind some of the old cladding, to the onerous task of having to replace the inadequate insulation, which consisted only of horsehair mixed with oakum.

When Patriquin opened up the walls he was horrified to find that the joists had been installed as if the house were a barn, over one metre apart instead of 40 centimetres, which is the norm today.

The biggest challenge, though, was raising the roof. At the time, he was married to his first wife and his son, Martin, was on the way.

"The house was pretty small at that stage and we needed more space for the baby," said Patriquin. "I realized I had to create another storey, so I stripped everything off, leaving a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling.

"It had been a particularly dry summer so I reckoned I could risk working in the open air for a couple of days, but it suddenly started to pour, drenching everything in sight. It was as if God was just waiting to send me a message! I kept saying to myself 'what have I done to this poor house?' Eventually, of course, everything dried out."

Enlarging the building and replacing worn-out materials tried Patriquin's patience on more than one occasion, but there were surprises as well - not all of them unpleasant. While working on the kitchen ceiling, Patriquin discovered a little box containing a pair of handmade children's shoes, tucked up behind the plaster.

The significance of this curious find was lost on him at first, but since then he has learned that the custom of putting shoes into a building when it was being constructed was fairly common in days gone by. (Among some cultures, it was believed to ward off the devil or to bring good luck.)

The most recent addition to the house was completed in 2009, when a music room was tagged on to the living area.

This time, Patriquin didn't get involved in the construction, because it was "a big, expensive job," but with the help of daughter Karin, he and Racette sketched out some ideas.

Interestingly, the teenager, who so many decades ago created the scrapbook about "the house that had weathered 130 Quebec winters," grew up to be an architect.

Brainstorming with Patriquin and Racette, she streamlined their designs.

The end result is an airy, 220-square-foot space with gleaming hardwood floors. The music room is separated from the living area by pocket doors that slide discreetly into the walls to create privacy when Patriquin is composing. The doors have glass panels, so even when they're closed, they don't block out the light.

Furnished with an antique steamer trunk from Racette's family, a couple of black leather tub chairs, bookshelves, a futon and Patriquin's grand piano, the colourful room has a cathedral ceiling and four, multi-paned windows. There are twin patio doors at the far end, in the middle of which stands a wood-burning stove. Potted plants lend a splash of greenery.

According to Patriquin, the music room is "definitely the final addition" to the house.

In fact, he says, because of changes in construction rules, he is not allowed to expand the building any further.

"An inspector came by one day and tried to tell me that the house did not meet current building specifications because it was built too close to the road. I gently pointed out that the house was here long before the road went in. That was the last I heard of him!"

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